Fates and Choices
by ncfan
Summary: -Arthur, Percy, Penelope- This wasn't how Arthur had expected—or wanted—Percy to declare his loyalties. Slightly AU. First installment of the 'Prodigal Son' series.


**Characters**: Arthur, Percy, Penelope**  
Summary**: This wasn't how Arthur had expected—or wanted—Percy to declare his loyalties.**  
Pairings**: Percy x Penelope**  
Author's Note**: This is the first in the 'Prodigal Son' series, focusing on Percy during and immediately after the events of _The Deathly Hallows_; there will be at least seven installments to this series. It is slightly AU, and it is _not_ Percy bashing; if there is a slightly disapproving stance taken towards Percy, that can be explained by unreliable narrators—in this case, Arthur Weasley, whose relationship with Percy is still highly strained at the time this is written. The second installment, _Burnout_, focusing on Penelope Clearwater, has already been written; I wrote it before I realized I wanted it to be part of a series.**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own _Harry Potter_.

* * *

St. Mungo's was not the only Wizarding hospital in London, though the fame of it was such that many might have—and did—believe it to be the only hospital there. There were other Wizarding hospitals in London. Smaller hospitals. Dingier, quieter, less efficiently run. They weren't "nice" places, per say, in which people wanted to be treated for injury or illness; many of them, it was noted, were actually fairly decent, but their modest and at times unkempt appearances served to scare away many prospective patients.

There was one thing going for a particular tiny, rundown Wizarding hospital in a less than savory part of London. It was so obscure that, following the fall of the Ministry of Magic, Voldemort, Pius Thicknesse and the Death Eaters hadn't even bothered to attempt to secure it as they had St. Mungo's. Either they thought that having St. Mungo's would be enough and they didn't see the need to occupy this hospital too, or it was just one of the grievous oversights that the British Ministry of Magic was so famous for in the Wizarding world.

Arthur Weasley found himself sitting on an uncomfortable chair in one of these smaller, mercifully overlooked hospitals, exchanging a deeply shaken look with the young woman sitting beside him, unwilling to cast his eyes on the slight young man—still a boy, really; or at least so he seemed to Arthur's eyes—who laid unconscious in the bed just a foot and a half from them. He didn't think he could bring himself to look at Percy.

The coup was, according to Kingsley, brutally swift. The Death Eaters and those in the Ministry loyal to them had moved quickly to eliminate all those who might post a threat to them. Arthur supposed, blankly, still in a state of numb shock, that Percy had somehow become… _threatening_ to the regime that had been installed in London. Arthur couldn't quite contemplate how.

Now, for some completely unfathomable reason, Kingsley wanted to see if Percy would allow himself to be recruited into the Order of the Phoenix. Either Kingsley Shacklebolt had gone stark raving mad, or he had seen some side of Percy that his father had missed.

And meanwhile, Arthur, who was usually much more sensible and accepting concerning such matters, steadfastly told himself that the knot growing in his stomach was most definitely not worry. Percy's behavior over the course of the past two years had more than proved that Percy neither appreciated nor thought he needed his father's worry.

That Arthur felt as though he might be sick every time he went over the knowledge he possessed concerning Percy's injuries _certainly_ wasn't indicative of worry either.

There had already been someone waiting in the room with the unconscious Percy when Arthur had arrived—running down the hall, he was willing to admit; adrenaline had gotten away from him—a slight, thin young woman, with long, chestnut brown curls and matching eyes.

In the chair next to him, Penelope Clearwater's already pale face was even paler than usual, her brow knitted and her skin drawn so tightly across her finely structured oval face that it seemed positively mask-like; Arthur found himself wondering if she was going to faint. She had just stopped wringing her hands in her lap a minute ago and had them clenched tightly over her knees instead; the knuckles bled white. Her taut face was dry, but the bloodshot sclera of her eyes were telling. She'd probably spent all of her tears before he'd arrived; after all, Penelope had been transported from the besieged Ministry with Percy. Now, there was no trace of her tears except for bloodshot eyes and a slightly trembling lip.

Arthur's heart went out to her. Molly had been absolutely hysterical when she first learned of what had happened to Percy during the fall of the Ministry—no matter how Percy chose to behave, Molly still loved and worried deeply after him.

Absently, Arthur suddenly realized that in the young woman to his immediate left he might have a possible future daughter-in-law, if she wasn't one already. If the former was true, then maybe Percy might be persuaded to put aside his differences with his family and vice versa long enough for Molly to be allowed to be ecstatic to have a new daughter, being allowed to forget that Percy was so estranged from the rest of them for a little while. If it was the latter… Well then, a hollow feeling joining the knot in his stomach, Arthur found himself regretting, even more keenly, everything that had happened to drive a wedge between Percy and the Weasleys.

_It's just that I never expected him to choose his career over his family_. The problem was that there were dimensions to the problem at hand that went far further and deeper than what Arthur was willing or capable to see.

It had to be nearly one in the morning, impossibly late; Arthur barely felt the tiredness, himself. He still had the adrenaline rush from Bill and Fleur's wedding being gate-crashed by Death Eaters and Ministry wizards to keep him wide awake.

The door opened then shut with a disgruntled _slam_; Arthur and Penelope both sat straight up with a start, staring at the Healer who bustled in, the acrid odor of stale cigarette smoke trailing close behind her and clinging to her graying hair. "I need to examine my patient," she announced rigidly to the room at large. "Out."

Arthur remained firmly seated. Penelope stood up, face going, if possible, even more deathly pale. "I—"

"_Out_, Miss."

With a show of meekness almost certainly uncharacteristic of her and almost certainly due to fatigue, Penelope ducked her head in defeat and walked back out into the hall.

The diminutive healer turned her attention on Arthur. "You too, sir."

Arthur sprang to his feet, feeling as though he had been doused in icy water, as he came to the sudden realization that the idea of leaving Percy alone with anyone he did not trust implicitly in the state he was in was utterly abhorrent to him; it was as though the breach had never occurred. "I…" Arthur stammered. "I… I'm his father… You can't just—"

"I'm aware he's your son. But he's _my_ patient, and I need to see to him, so wait in the hall with the girl until I say you can come back in."

So Arthur was kicked out.

He sat down in a chair in the hall next to Penelope and almost immediately realized that his hands were shaking. Arthur winced, and squeezed his suddenly hot, prickling eyes shut. There was no use denying it anymore; it had been so petty and foolish to even try. He was worried about Percy. Utterly, miserably worried. How could he not be?

Irresistibly, Arthur found his mind drawn back to what he knew of the injuries Percy had sustained during the coup. A few broken bones and some nasty burns. The Healers had already done absolutely everything they could for the concussion and the blood he had lost; the latter was most likely why Percy was still unconscious.

Then, Arthur shot a look at Penelope, who was sitting, stiff-backed where he slumped, again in the chair next to him, and tried to remember what he knew about her. Percy had never spoken a great deal about her, but Arthur had met her once or twice—though not recently—and he did know something about Percy's girlfriend. She was good-natured and for the most part unfailingly polite, though her humor often had a sharp, piercing edge to it—Penelope was keenly observant and unafraid to admit it. She'd been put in Ravenclaw House at Hogwarts so Arthur assumed she had some brains; in fact, Percy had once admitted to him that they had first met in the library studying for the midterms during their fourth year. Percy, Arthur knew, adored her, or at least he had when they were last on speaking terms and if she was here now their relationship was probably still strong.

"Penelope?" The young woman seemed to shake herself out of a daze as Arthur fixed her in a gaze both kind and worried. "Could you please tell me what happened?"

She nodded, sucking in a deep breath, obviously deeply relieved to have something to do to take her mind off of her worry, if only for a little while. "Mr. Weasley, am I to take it you already know about what has happened at the Ministry of Magic?"

"Yes, Penelope, I've heard."

"Percy told me you were a member of the Order of the Phoenix," Penelope whispered, in an almost-reproving tone and clearly to herself, as though this knowledge should have let her know that Arthur would be well-informed. Her eyes cleared. "Then as you probably know, Minister Scrimgeour is dead. During the fighting that followed, I…" She broke off, swallowing heavily, before regaining her composure, though her voice was a bit brittle "…I'm not entirely sure of what happened to Percy.

"Mr. Shacklebolt brought us both here—I can't Apparate; I've never been able to. Percy says I need to hire a tutor but I'm not keen on splinching myself again—" Penelope explained to Arthur's raised eyebrow, and he nodded; Penelope was hardly the only witch or wizard out there who was leery of Apparition "—after Percy was injured. He said he and Percy had run into each other during the fighting and were dueling a masked Death Eater; they couldn't tell which one."

So Percy had been put in this position by a Death Eater. Arthur found himself caught between two emotions: pride and regret. He found himself feeling proud of Percy for the first time in a very long time; so his third son, who had behaved for nearly three years as though the Ministry of Magic dictated how the earth orbited around the sun was finally starting to think for himself. But then… There were so many ways Arthur had hoped Percy would one day prove his loyalty to what he knew to be the better cause—_and Arthur had never once entertained the thought in his head that Percy might end up choosing to remain on the side of the Ministry, because that thought was too much for his heart to take_. So many ways he had hoped for, or expected.

This hadn't been one of them. Arthur wondered if maybe there had been something he had missed about Percy, something in him he had never seen all those years, especially the two when he refused to speak to him.

There almost certainly was.

Something occurred to Arthur that made the air dig even deeper trenches on his lined brow. "Penelope, does Percy know Kingsley well?" he asked slowly, frowning.

Brown eyes widened and Penelope seemed almost surprised by Arthur's query—surprised that he had to ask. That brought a small pang to bear in Arthur's stomach; most other fathers would have known well who their son's friends were, and even though Penelope had to know that Percy was estranged from his family, that changed nothing. Arthur should have known if Percy and Kingsley were acquainted, even superficially.

"Yes, we both do. Mr. Shacklebolt took an interest in Percy a little while after…" Penelope winced, and Arthur, knowing what she was referring to, nodded stiffly. "Anyway," Penelope went on hastily, "Mr. Shacklebolt seems to like him; I'm not entirely sure what the basis of their acquaintance is though."

All Arthur could do was nod to this information. Kingsley had always been a very good judge of character; he could unearth things hidden in others that they themselves did not know of. He had to wonder the same thing as Penelope though; what _was_ the basis of his acquaintance with Percy.

"You know…" Penelope's voice was so quiet, so hesitant that Arthur didn't realize for a few seconds that she had spoken. When he looked up she was staring intently at him—the girl really did have quite a piercing stare. Penelope broke off and shook her head, staring down at the floor with such weariness in her face that she looked as though she'd fought an entire war and seen more loved ones cut down than she could number.

"Penelope?" Arthur suddenly got the impression that she was about to tell him something she considered extremely important; he couldn't say what gave him this thought, only that it was swimming in his mind now and wouldn't leave.

The tension around her was so thick it felt like a soup, and she glanced tentatively at him out of her eyelashes. "Did you… did you ever wonder how Percy reacted to finding out that Voldemort—" being Muggle-born no doubt led Penelope to wonder why everyone was so frightened of mentioning Voldemort's name "—really was back, and that Professor Dumbledore and Potter had both been right all the long?"

Arthur shook his head, blinking a little dazedly at her question. Truth be told, he _hadn't_ thought about it, except to briefly wonder if he would one morning find his third child on the doorstep of the Burrow, asking to be forgiven. He had been so busy, with Order business and Ministry business that he hadn't been able to give much thought to Percy's state of mind. He had so thoroughly written Percy out of his mind from pain that he barely even thought about Percy except when they occasionally ran into the Ministry—_inevitably brief, silent meetings in which they never met each other's eyes and barely even acknowledged each other's presence_—and when Arthur would on the rare occasion dream about him. They weren't pleasant dreams; they usually involved Percy angry or dead (_Because Percy, Arthur knew was more at risk than any of his other children, because he was alone, and vulnerable and because the enemies of the Order might strike at Percy to get at the Weasleys, perhaps not knowing of their estrangement. They might even do it if they did know_).

As much as he didn't want to know, Arthur realized that he _had_ to know, and Penelope was the one most likely to know what Percy's mindset had been after Voldemort's return been.

"Why don't you tell me?" Arthur tried to come across as gentle but really his voice was a little short—he was finally starting to feel tired—as he pinched the bridge of his nose, and Penelope noticed, because she frowned a little.

Then, an incongruously sharp and soft laugh escaped from her mouth, utterly without humor. "Does the word 'self-castigating' mean anything to you, Mr. Weasley?"

Arthur only stared at her.

Penelope took this as an invitation to go on. "You should have heard him talk. He wasn't kind on himself—then again, he never has been," she added in an undertone, with a sort of irritation quite similar to the irritation Molly took with Arthur's fascination with cars—a quirk they could overlook and forgive. But in the case of Penelope with Percy, it was something far more serious than flying Ford Anglias. There was something else there. Arthur could clear quite clearly what Penelope said beneath: _Only someone who had been able to listen to him talk would truly understand._ "It was worse, I think, because he was there—in the Ministry—when Voldemort Disapparated away with that woman, Bellatrix Lestrange. He wanted to go find you that day at work, to talk with you."

"Then why didn't he?" Arthur asked bitterly, staring at the blank wall opposite them and refusing to look Penelope in the eye.

Though he couldn't see it, some indecipherable expression came over Penelope's face. "You weren't there, remember?" she said, very softly. "You didn't come in to work that day."

He remembered now, and Arthur grimaced. He'd been on Order business, helping guard Tonks at St. Mungo's so there wouldn't be any unfortunate… _incidents_ as there had been with Broderick Bode. He hadn't been at work at the Ministry of Magic that first morning after Voldemort's return had been made public.

"I came back the day afterwards, Penelope." Arthur's voice was especially bitter now. "I didn't quit my job at the Ministry after the attack. There were plenty of other days Percy could have come talk to me."

The act of Penelope bristling was such that Arthur could practically feel the air crackling around her. He turned an eye on her and could see the young woman physically restraining herself from indulging in a display of temper. "Just like him," she hissed under her breath, and Arthur knew again that he had not been meant to hear that. After taking about a minute to calm herself, she answered him, still speaking softly. "Percy is like the rest of his family." If that was a comment meant to rebuke him, Arthur couldn't hear the acid in Penelope's voice. "He has his pride, and sometimes that pride forces him into corners, into places and situations he can't get himself out of."

Penelope's brow furrowed as her eyes searched Arthur's tired, bespectacled face. "And he was… scared. As time went on, Percy had more time to think. He was afraid that if he went to you on hand and knee, you… wouldn't take him back."

That was probably the worst revelation Arthur had ever been forced to come to. Now he _knew_ he was tired, as he fought the urge to slump in his seat. Tired and old. _How_ could Percy possibly think that he and Molly and the others might not take him back? How on Earth could he think that? They had been angry, yes…

That was it. They had been angry. He and Percy, in particular, had said such awful things to each other that night. And Percy, Arthur was now remembering, always had a knack for taking a problem and making it worse in his mind. He tended to be prone towards hyperbole. In Percy's mind, it might have been perfectly reasonable to fear that he might not be welcomed into his family.

"He wouldn't say anything to any of you, even though I could tell he really wanted to. Couldn't find the words, I suppose." The tone in Penelope's voice at that gave Arthur the impression that at times even _she_ couldn't explain Percy's behavior; and, Arthur could guess, wasn't always willing to make excuses for it either. "And then, Minister Scrimgeour decided to go with Percy to your home last Christmas."

Arthur huffed.

"You misunderstand me." Penelope's voice was cold, and when Arthur looked at her, stiffly affronted, he thought she was the epitome of what an offended Ravenclaw looked like. She rather looked like Percy when he was offended, in fact; he wondered if she had always been like that or if that was something of Percy's that had rubbed off on her. "Make no mistake; Minister Scrimgeour would have gone to your house that Christmas whether Percy accompanied him or not." She shut her eyes, a gray veil passing over her face. "Minister Scrimgeour, I think, wanted Percy with him to make it seem a bit more…" she bit her lip as she searched for a word "… _respectable_."

"And he wanted a scapegoat in case things went wrong?" Arthur couldn't remember the last time his tone was so harsh—_oh, wait, he did remember. It was when he had argued with Percy. Or maybe it hadn't been, and that was just the way he remembered it in his dreams_. Suddenly he was angry with Rufus Scrimgeour for using a young, inexperienced man who had admired him in such a manner. More so because the young man in question was his son. He hadn't been angry on Percy's behalf like this in over two years.

Penelope's grimace told him everything he needed to know. "Truth be told—" she was rueful now "—I was the one who made him end up going."

Arthur found another occasion to stare at Penelope. This time, however, he couldn't truly say he was surprised.

Fiddling with her hands a little nervously, Penelope went on. "I knew quite well how badly he wanted to see if he could still patch things with you and the rest of his family. It all seemed so perfect. Percy was reluctant, of course, but you know Percy…" She smiled a smile that quavered a little bit, and her eyes seemed for a moment slightly more bloodshot "…sometimes he needs a shove in the right direction." Penelope's eyes clouded over. "He was terrified; it was a little sad, really. He said he was going to talk to you and Mrs. Weasley after Christmas dinner."

_After Christmas dinner_… Arthur could very well guess what Penelope was going to say next. It was so like Percy to hide fear behind stiffness, and he had been so very stiff when he arrived that day.

"Then, Percy came home covered in parsnip." Penelope's grimace was becoming commonplace. "And he refused to talk about reconciliation after that. All he'd say was that he had figured out where he stood with his family, and that it wasn't worth wasting the words, since he knew no one would be listening." Her face creased in frustration before settling back to what it was, and she looked closer to tears now than she had all the time Arthur had been with her.

Arthur decided he'd been wrong. _This_ was the worst revelation he'd ever been forced to come to, that Percy had become convinced that he would never be allowed back into the Weasley family fold. Honestly, even when he was at his most enraged against Percy, Arthur had never thought the estrangement would be forever.

But Percy had.

He needed air. He needed air desperately. Fresh air devoid of cigarette smoke. Air that wasn't trying to devour him whole. The air of a London street, even if it might be crawling with Death Eaters. Just for a little while; he wouldn't, _couldn't _leave. Arthur stood up.

And Penelope sprang up beside him, her eyes going wide with panic. "Percy never looked down on you, for what you did at the Ministry, you know." She was stammering now, desperate in her need to keep him from leaving—she thought Arthur was leaving without the intent of coming back, he realized. "He always thought…" She ducked her head. "He was always proud of your dedication to your work, even if he thought what you chose as a career was a bit… foolish. Percy was happy to hear you'd been promoted, even if he'd never tell you that."

It was the defenseless loyalty of a loved one who really didn't know what to do in such a situation. "Please… Percy can be a fool at times. I live with him; I know full well just how much of a fool he can be. He has a tendency to overreact and he doesn't like to admit when he's wrong; I can make no excuse for him in those areas, just like he can't make any excuse for why I can't cook with magic and why I couldn't be polite to Annora Robinson if my life depended on it." She wore a shaky smile now. "But, really… We don't stop loving someone just because they've made a mistake, and they're too bloody proud to admit it to the people they really need to admit it to. And we don't stop loving them just because they were wrong about us." Arthur would never know if that was addressed to Percy concerning his family, his family concerning Percy, or both. Penelope seemed to sense how lame and inadequate and callow those words sounded when put to the air, because she fell silent and stared down at the floor, sitting back down in her chair dejectedly.

Finding himself staring at the young woman, pale and distinctly frazzled-looking with her robes wrinkled and slightly torn—and dotted with blood, Arthur realized for the first time with a momentary thrill of horror; Percy's blood, he had no doubt—Arthur wasn't quite sure what to say.

Then, he knew what needed to be said—to Penelope, anyway; figuring out what to say to Percy when he woke up was still a work in progress.

Arthur patted her shoulder, forcing a smile on to his face, one that was false, and they both knew it, but it was a start, at any rate. "Penelope, why don't you tell me everything? It should pass the time."

-0-

The Healer emerged some twenty minutes later, still smelling strongly of cigarette smoke and still looking as though she was more seriously put-upon than ought to be allowed. "You can go back in now," she grunted, bustling down the hall. "My guess is he'll be awake soon."

Now, Arthur was standing over Percy's bed, hands gripped tightly on the railings, still not quite capable of looking at the face of the son he'd been so estranged from.

His "conversation" with Penelope, if one could call it that, had been enlightening.

"…_was deeply insulted by the suggestion that he'd stoop so low as to spy on his family or on Professor Dumbledore, even if he didn't really like the man at all. Wounded by the mere suggestion of it. I don't think he'd expected to be faced with _that_ sort of accusation…"_

Unlike some who could block unpleasant things out of their minds, Arthur remembered every little detail of his row with Percy perfectly. He hadn't really been paying attention to where his words rambled that night, and neither had Percy, but neither one of them had been pulling their punches and it made sense that Percy would be just as hurt by some of the things his father had said to him as Arthur was by some of what Percy had said.

"…_about a fortnight after he moved in with me in London, who would show up but Professor Dumbledore?"_

Arthur hadn't been able to disguise his shock at that.

"… _well he was perfectly civil of course, even if Percy—" Penelope's words were punctuated with a roll of the eyes "—was a bit cool; I will never understand what his grievance with Professor Dumbledore was. Anyway, Professor Dumbledore wanted to know if Percy would be willing to work for him as a spy."_

Percy, a spy for Dumbledore?

"_It seems he found out about what had happened between you, and it must have occurred to him that Percy's position made him a prime candidate for a spy._

"_Well, Percy said no. In no uncertain terms, mind you. He was profoundly offended by the whole idea. He said he didn't want to spend his life looking over his shoulder for a knife in the dark. He said that. Percy figured he'd prefer to be able to look the people he worked with in the eye instead of whiling away his days skulking in the shadows, playing both sides of the fence. He said he didn't want to live a lie. Percy has his sense of honor just as much as he has his pride._

"_Professor Dumbledore… was… strange. He seemed a little sad, but he said he understood, and that… that he regretted that the circumstances were such. He… Professor Dumbledore, I mean, said that… if said circumstances were different, he supposed Percy could have been a dedicated Order agent. Percy didn't like that too much; that was when he asked Professor Dumbledore to leave."_

_That_, Arthur supposed, could have been what Kingsley saw in Percy, why he seemed to take interest in him, why he wanted him in the Order. Percy, who was only willing to commit to one side at a time, it seemed, had made his choice. Dumbledore may have even told Kingsley of his plans, and of the conversation that ensued. Percy was, at any rate more trustworthy when he finally chose a side than most; Kingsley would have noticed that.

Arthur had not.

Arthur Weasley restrained a sigh. He had all the information he hadn't had that might have made a difference a few months ago.

Now, if only he knew how to use it.

For the first time, he forced himself to look at Percy's face.

It seemed… crumpled, somehow. Pinched.

Percy had always been pale—he _did_ have red hair after all; it went with the territory—but he seemed far paler than usual. The blood loss could have easily accounted for that, but Penelope had also confided—brow knit in worry and frustration that she couldn't do anything to get Percy to change his behavior—that between the stress of his work and the shame that accompanied the revelation that Voldemort had indeed returned, Percy had become a virtual shut-in. That could be part of it too. As a result, his numerous freckles seemed even more starkly visible than normal. His vivid red hair almost washed like blood across the crown of his head.

In this state, Percy seemed somehow younger. Slighter, smaller. His glasses were gone, either lost in the panic of escaping the Ministry with Kingsley and Penelope or removed by someone later. There were chalk blue shadows under his eyes and he just looked so tired, as though he never got enough sleep. He was grown thin, too; no doubt something that would become something for Molly to fuss over.

That was, if Percy ever decided to come home.

Arthur sighed wearily, reached out a single hand and rested it on Percy's hair. That hand roving down to his cheek met with skin that was cold as ice. If Arthur hadn't known better, he would have sworn he was staring down at a corpse.

_And how, I wonder, has it all come to this?_

Then, as if shaking himself off from a state of death, Percy began to stir, wincing in pain against the stark, bright light shone down on him. Arthur felt his stomach start to knot painfully again.

Immediately, Penelope, who had been sitting down and staring off into space (Arthur had been convinced that she was finally starting to drift off), hopped to her feet and within a second found herself standing by Arthur, frowning down on Percy's pale face worriedly. "Percy?" Her urgent whisper was noticeably choked. "Are you awake?"

Percy acknowledged her question with a short nod that was cut off by another wince of pain. "Uh-huh." His voice was noticeably slurred.

Penelope managed a shaky smile. "How do you feel?" Her hands were clenched on the railing now, the same as Arthur's were; her knuckles again were as white as bleached bone.

"I've had better days." Percy managed to keep from slurring his words quite as much as before, though nothing was perfectly clear; a noticeably wry tone had entered his voice. He opened his eyes slightly, and he didn't see his father—Arthur found that he wasn't quite as upset with that as he might have been. He still had no idea of what to say to Percy. For the moment, Percy's slightly glazed blue eyes were focused entirely on Penelope. The faintest hint of a smirk ghosted over his face and then vanished. "You alright, Penny?"

The smile on Penelope's lips was noticeably fragile. "I'm fine. A little frazzled, but fine. Do you remember what happened?"

"How could I forget?" What hint of a smirk had returned to Percy's face was noticeably bitter now; Arthur winced at the sight of it. "I'm no great shakes at dueling, but I do what I can. Since I'm still alive and—I'm going to presume—not in Azkaban, can I take it that Kingsley Shacklebolt was able to get me out alright?"

"Yes, I suppose you can assume that. We—all three of us—Disapparated just as they were shutting down the floo terminals. I saw Madam Edgecombe running to one of the terminals before it was shut down, so I'm pretty sure she's alright too." All Arthur could assume was that Penelope, or Percy, or both of them had run into Cordelia Edgecombe in the chaos and that she had been in some sort of peril.

Percy nodded, again flinching away at the ache this caused. "That's good."

Penelope quirked a smile—a _real_ smile this time—and then her face changed, turning just a little shut-off. "Percy, listen…" she hesitated "… you should know… your father's here."

Arthur didn't know whether to thank Penelope or curse her interference. Percy's face contorted in a frown, too tired or too heavily sedated to force any real emotion onto his face. "Where?" he murmured, with the sort of tone of voice that indicated that he didn't really want to know the answer.

Arthur reached out to touch his third eldest son's shoulder gently. "I'm right here, Percy." For the first time, Percy saw him, and immediately his eyes and face went blank—strong emotions running in him now, feelings he no doubt wanted to hide. To be honest, this wasn't how Arthur had expected any first meeting in a long while between them to go. "I…" Arthur paused "…I'd heard you'd been hurt during the coup at the Ministry."

"Did you?" Something in Percy's tone rankled, the suggestion that he hadn't expected his father to care.

Knowing that anger wouldn't do any good, and knowing that he didn't really have the anger left in him to truly work himself into _another_ row with Percy, Arthur managed a weak smile meant for both Percy and Penelope. "I'd like both of you to know that I don't think it's advisable that you go back to work, Penelope because of your blood status—" He meant no offense and Penelope signaled her acknowledgement by nodding; it was unlikely that the new regime, being heavily staffed by Death Eaters, would be too kind towards Muggle-borns "—and Percy because of your performance earlier today."

There was a pregnant pause, in which none of them could think of words to say to each other. Penelope was watching them both as if she expected and explosion to occur at any second, and knowing what she did about the circumstances Arthur and Percy Weasley found themselves in, she couldn't really blamed if she was a little apprehensive about the whole thing. Arthur didn't notice that though; he just stared down at Percy's face, thinking again of how blurred his features seemed without his glasses over them. Percy hadn't looked quite like this since was ten and had the stomach flu.

Then, Percy fixed one eye on him, and the expression there was enough to freeze Arthur's blood. "Why…" he whispered "…didn't anyone tell me what happened to Bill?"

Penelope took that as her cue to leave and go back out into the hall, stiffening in obvious discomfort. As she was leaving, she took something out of her slightly crumpled robes and handed it to Arthur: Percy's horn-rimmed glasses, one of the stems slightly bent, but otherwise intact. Arthur took the glasses, nodding to her silently, and held on to them.

"Percy…" Arthur's voice trailed off, suddenly sad, and Percy turned his eyes to the wall. "When… did you find out?"

"I… I saw Bill at Dumbledore's funeral…" Percy looked distinctly uncomfortable now. "…He looked awful. Someone told me…" His face contorted again, a mask of horror that only existed for a second before vanishing "…that he'd been mauled by Fenrir Greyback. Why didn't anyone tell me?" he asked again, quietly. "Didn't you think… I'd want to know?"

"Oh, Percy."

Arthur hadn't, he realized guiltily, been thinking about Percy at all when he stared down at Bill lying unconscious on a bed in the Hogwarts infirmary. All he'd been thinking was how worried he was about Bill and praying that he wouldn't die and trying to account for all of his other children who were there (_As a father, Arthur knew he'd had every right to be worrying about that, and he couldn't help but think that he could be forgiven if he grew a little absent-minded towards other matters_). He hadn't been thinking about Percy at all. And given the way Percy had been behaving at the time and what limited information Arthur had concerning his mindset, he hadn't honestly thought Percy would care.

He'd been wrong, it seemed.

"Percy, I…" Arthur felt his mouth go dry. It was so much easier to be angrier with someone across a great distance, he discovered, than it was to be angry with them from as close as he and Percy were now. This deathly pale, beat-up boy lying half-conscious in a hospital bed was about as far from the vision he'd had of Percy as an arrogant, ambitious, self-satisfied young man as anything could be. Arthur wondered if that vision had ever been real, or if it had only ever existed in his mind's eye. "I'm… sorry, Percy." Funny; he'd always expected Percy to be the one apologizing to him. "It… It rather slipped my mind." There were other things Arthur would have liked to say to him, but for now that was the best he could manage.

"Ah…" Percy's voice couldn't have been… Actually, Arthur wasn't sure what it was he heard in Percy's voice that made him want to cringe. Percy took to staring at the wall again.

Then, still staring at the wall, Percy suddenly asked, "How did Ron do on his O.W.L.s?"

Relieved to have a lighter subject to focus on, Arthur smiled as he remembered the morning Ron, Harry and Hermione received the results of their O.W.L.s. "Ron took nine O.W.L.s and he ended up with seven passing grades—he only failed Divination and History of Magic." Percy's mouth twitched at this—he doubtless remembered how dull both History of Magic and Divination had been. "He made an 'Exceeding Expectations' in Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions, and an "Acceptable" in Astronomy, Herbology and Transfiguration."

Percy quirked a smile. "Good. And Ginny?"

"Nine O.W.L.s; she didn't fail anything. She got an 'Outstanding' in Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and either an 'Exceeds Expectations' or an 'Acceptable' on everything else."

Percy nodded a little—apparently, the action didn't cause him quite as much pain anymore. "That's good… That's good." Then, his face took one a bitter tinge, no doubt thinking of the abhorrence his two youngest siblings would display if they knew that they had his approval concerning anything.

"Any more questions?" Arthur asked with a note of false cheer.

Pale blue eyes turned on him, veiled and utterly impenetrable. "Why are you here?" Percy's voice was somehow both soft and defensive at the same time.

Arthur had been hoping beyond hope that Percy wouldn't ask that question, that he would be able to understand a little better. Hope was extinguished now. "Percy, you've been injured. You're hurt. Your mother's worried sick." Percy winced a little at the mention of his mother. "Why on earth shouldn't I be here?"

Even though he lay prostrate on the hospital bed, it was easy to see Percy stiffening. "Considering our—" he searched for a word "—_differences_, I'm not entirely sure of how we should be behaving towards each other," Percy remarked tightly.

"Percy…" Arthur trailed off, caught between exasperation and weary sadness "…our… _differences_, since you put it that way, no matter how large, don't erase the fact that you are my son. No amount of anger can change that." He reached out to put his hand over Percy's; though he tensed noticeably, he didn't pull his hand away. "We want you back, Percy."

Percy snorted. "Only Mother. The rest of you certainly don't." His words were ejected in a stream of hot, angry air.

Arthur scoffed, deciding to cut to the chase if Percy couldn't be reasoned with. "Believe what you like Percy, until experience shows you otherwise and the truth can be knocked into your head. Look… I did come here for another reason. Kingsley and I talked and… after your 'performance' at the Ministry earlier, and considering you are not in the position to safely go back to work at the moment, we were wondering if you would be willing to do work for the Order."

This was met with a slightly uncomprehending expression on Percy's face. "Join the Order of the Phoenix?" That, of course, was what Arthur was insinuating. "But why… After _everything_…"

His voice shook a little, and Arthur got a glimpse of what Penelope had made Percy out to be: unsure of how to make things right, and above all very scared. In the face of that, he could feel his anger melting away; Arthur had no idea how to make things right either. "I think you're well cut out for it, even if you are "no great shakes at dueling"." He smiled gently. "We really do want you back, Perce."

This time, Arthur realized he meant it.

Percy stared at him for a long time, trying to make his eyes focus. Then, he nodded. "Alright," Percy whispered. "I'll do it."

Arthur grinned and clapped his shoulder. "Great."

Percy looked up at him, a slightly rueful expression on his face. "Umm, Father… Dad? Do you know where my glasses are?" His salt-white ears started to go a little red; he was practically squirming. "It's a little tiring, not being able to see anything clearly."

Smiling more at the fact that Percy had called him "Dad" than at his question, Arthur nodded, holding the familiar horn-rimmed glasses out to him. "Here you go, Percy."

After Percy pressed the glasses up his nose, Arthur flashed a conspiratorial smile at his son. "Listen, Percy, I have no idea how much longer this hospital will be safe. We're going to have to get you out of here now, it seems. Lucky for you and Penelope, I have plenty of experience with Side-Along Apparition from having so many children. I'm going to call her back in here, and then we'll head to where Kingsley told me to meet up with him. How does that sound to you?"

With some difficulty, groaning theatrically Percy sat up in bed. "Should be fun," he mumbled. He attempted to smooth down his especially wild, unkempt curly hair, but he and Arthur both knew that to be a losing battle. Percy fixed his father in a tired stare. "How does that Chinese curse go?"

* * *

Wow. I didn't think it would get this long. I should tell you now; the others probably won't be this long. Anyway, I hope you all liked it, and if you did, go look for the second installment, _Burnout_, on my profile. Enjoy the ride.


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